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Posts tagged ‘disabled/differently abled’

Where There is No Pain…

I am staring up at the sky, and I can see the clouds rolling by. I am going the other way. We are giving a nod to one another as we go our way.

The sounds above me are all muffled, of people going on with their lives. I put them out of my mind. They don’t mind me, and I certainly, at this moment, don’t care about them. The sounds around me are different. They are bubbled and thunderous but deadened. They don’t hurt like the stark sounds of being above.

I glide. Above, I ache, I hurt, I am slow. I can barely move forward. But here, I am a Titan. Gods wish they could move like me. This is where I want to be. My muscles move the way I want them to. They ache and scream with the movement, but there is support under every part of my body holding my limbs as I reach.

I turn face down now, tuck my head, and open my eyes. The world is clear, and the sun beams across the floor in ripples, because it isn’t even as strong as I am here. I expel my lungs as I stretch my legs, moving them like scissors, gently. Every gentle motion has so much power. The movements that bring me glances of pity above make me feel like Poseidon’s child here. I was made to use my body here.

I reach, grab, and pull, gently, and glide again. I turn my head (it doesn’t hurt!) and take in a desperate measure of air greedily. My torso turns as if it can just swivel freely. I look down below me, straightening my spine, and see the blue tiled “T” marking my distance. One. Two. Three, and a tuck, and my legs push me back the other way.

I want to stay here. I want to remain where there is no gravity to pull me against myself and bring the pain back. I dread later. I dread even ten minutes from now, because we all have to pay the piper…

The second lap is slower. I always start off too fast. It is always too long between these trips, or too long between seasons (it is never the same indoors). My body can move, but my lungs burn faster. I have to come up more.

Halfway through I have to stop.

My feet (they are tingling now…again) find the ground and my hands reach for the wall.

No. Please.

I fight on. Because I want to stay here.

Where it doesn’t hurt.

The sun beats down on me.

Reach. Grab. Pull.

And it isn’t just the water I grab for. It is time.

Tuck, push, kick.


Under here I am alone with my thoughts, with how good it feels.

But my lungs ache for that air, and my body is tired, and my neck strains now when I turn for that air.

As I grasp that wall I am crying.

I need help out.

I am too tired to stand.

I have to rest.

And all I can think about is the next time I can get back in.


Me, Elsewhere — Some Shameless Self Promotion

Katie Leung as Cho Chang holding a tiny owl. Text bubble reads "It can only carry messages of 140 characters or less. I call it 'Twitter'."It’s been a while since I have updated Readerland on where I have been and why it has been abnormally quiet on random babble… lately.

In no particular order:

Racialicious — Wopajo

FWD/Forward — For Cereal, Time?

For Cereal, Stars and Stripes?

A Conversation With a Pharmacist

Trust Me

Change.org’s Women’s Rights Blog — KBR to Jamie Leigh Jones: You Were Asking For It

Military Restricted Reporting Does Not Put Rapists Away

WASPs Receive Congressional Gold Medal For WWII Service

Judge Sentences Abuse Suspect to Marry His Victim

MyCAA Program Reinstated for Existing Account Holders

Lesbian Sergeant Outed by Police and Discharged Under DADT

Repeat Offenders Account for 9 Out of 10 Rapes on College Campuses

Equal Rights? Men Make All the Policies for Women in the Military

DoD Stops Payment on the Military Spouses Tuition Assistance Program

Gates Declares It’s Time For Women on Subs (with an attached Action Item)

So that’s what I’ve been up to…well, a little bit of it anyway. I have more tumbling around in my head. What have you been up to?

Those Who Yell the Loudest…

A while back I was having a talk w/ The Guy.

See, there were some related things that coincided with this little thing that happened where this celebrity you might have heard of, Amanda Palmer, together with her partner created this project, Evelyn Evelyn, and my co-blogger at FWD/Forward, Annaham wrote about the problematic issues involved.

There was a wee bit of fallout.

Then, Amanda Palmer, because she is a celebrity, and sometimes celebrities, who aren’t bloggers, and who get big platforms due to their fame and getting paid for their work and stuff, was invited to appear on this Australian talk show. If I was a big celebrity like Amanda Palmer and not a blogger I would probably talk about my upcoming projects and plug my tours or talk about my fabulous engagement to my super cool fiancee who writes charming children’s books…or maybe pick a cause that is important to me (in interviews, Daniel Radcliff likes to talk about Gay Rights, because he is totes awesome), because sometimes celebrities can be thoughtful and deep and think about the nuances of social justice or something important with their spot in front of millions of viewers.

But instead, Amanda Palmer thought this would be the time to talk about how MEEN that little blogger was (well those bloggers, b/c she couldn’t be arsed to remember any one blogger’s silly name), the one who wrote the big nasty blog post about her SOOPER COOL project, and then have a good laugh with the other folks on the show…oh and make fun of the same feminists who rallied behind her when her record label was being a bunch of arseholes.

Instead of just going about her day and promoting her (albeit deeply problematic new work), she chose to pick on a blogger, someone who put thoughtful work and time evaluating the problematic themes of a piece of work Amanda Palmer was working on and didn’t get paid for it. She laughed at her on national television. Pretty cool, Amanda Palmer.

And I asked The Guy: Why do people who hate/dislike/are annoyed by “little” people so much continue to follow them, read them, watch what they are doing, or apparently even talk about them on TV? Why don’t they just ignore us if we are so insignificant and irritating? He hugged me tightly and said “Because the people who yell the loudest have the most buried within them and are the most guilty”.

Damn it I really love him.

But it didn’t stop there!


Now Amanda Palmer hates on Lady Gaga, and at least this time she isn’t picking on a disabled feminist blogger who doesn’t get paid for her work (but really, no one should be bullied, b/c bullies are jerks), but instead she thinks that Lady Gaga is a sell out. Or, not ironic enough, ya know, like the Klan.

Cuz that is some funny shit right there…y’all will excuse me if I don’t laugh. But just in case you don’t get it, she understands.

See, not liking someone’s taste or style is one thing…like people who don’t like That Coffee Company’s lattes and think it is a crime against humanity to put steamed milk and flavored syrup into coffee (I can take it both ways), but when you start telling someone that their taste in such thing is wrong or just R-O-N-G, then you really need to step back and self examine why it is that it is so important to pull that woman’s feminist cred b/c she has an affinity for M.A.C cosmetics or pictures of D&G shoes…wev. You are perfectly entitled to hate Lady Gaga’s music or find it catchy or think she is the worst thing to happen to pop music since Aqua (Shut Up! I am going to go DL some Barbie Girl RIGHT NAO!), but why does it have to be a judgment on humanity? Also, I don’t think I have seen a celebrity lash out at another so vehemently before…(unless you are Eminem, but that is kind of his schtick…). Don’t you have better things to do?

It seems that the people who yell the loudest…the ones who insist that people are doing things that they haven’t done, the ones who use a position of power to inflict hurt, abuse, or otherwish ass hattish behaviour on to other people, especially vulnerable people (like Annaham), or who would rally their allies around them as if a personal distaste for something makes a certain pop star (who might possibly have more current success) inherently evil, and that making judgments about that pop star’s appearance WHEN YOU BUILT YOUR FEMINIST CRED ON HOW IT WASN’T FUCKING COOL TO DO THAT REMEMBER THE REBELLYON!!!1!ELEVENTY really have some things they should examine…

Like some unfuckingchecked privilege.

Further reading, with a trigger warning for very graphic images, but I think the point is made.

And also.

Trust Me

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A couple of weeks ago I asked my PCM for a referral to OB/GYN to replace the IUD that I had to surrender over the summer. She and The Guy and I have been talking for some time about the options and realities of having another child with my condition, and the answer we came up with is that we will wait for a little longer and see if I am still doing well with my current regimen.

Usually these things take weeks to schedule, but they called the next day, and I had my referral appointment on the second day. No matter what your history in the OB/GYN clinics you have to have counseling in order to get birth control through the MTF (all the ones in which I have been treated anyway), and the idea is that you get to talk to your OB/GYN about all of your birth control options, what you want from your birth control, take his or her advice, and decide on what is best for you. That is the theory, anyhow.

Some people (like me) have an idea ahead of time what they want or what is best for them. I, for example, due to my medical history and ongoing condition, am not able to use a hormonal birth control. Because of that I know that the copper IUD (ParaGuard) is the best option for me. Also because of this, I often read up on ParaGuard and IUD use in women, and try to keep abreast of any information regarding IUD usage, risks involved, etc. The IUD has such a bad reputation from so much misinformation that I feel the need to stay on top of this. Some would say this makes me a big smarty-pants-know-it-all. I say that sometimes a woman can’t trust that her doctor is going to take her word at face falue, and in the off chance that her doctor isn’t as awesome as mine she needs to be prepared. I am privileged to have information available at my fingertips.

I did not realize that my appointment would not be with my usual kick-ass OB/GYN, Dr. K, the same one who saved my fallopian tubes and life this summer and who promised to give me a shiny new IUD whenever I was ready for it. Not panicking when I saw the face of a woman I didn’t know I sat down as she introduced herself as Nurse Midwife V and told me that she had been looking over my file. Great. Maybe she was doing her background reading too, because I really tire of bringing every doctor up to speed constantly on my condition when it is right there on the computer screen for them to see. I don’t have a bunch of degrees and I can keep up with the required reading.

Before I had even the chance to say anything she told me that I was “not a candidate for an IUD” because of my ectopic pregnancy, and that she was not going to refer me for one. When I started to say that I understood that there were some risks she cut me off and told me that my pap was also past due and kept talking. I tried to assert myself past her obsession with people rooting around in my vagina, to let her know that I was aware that there were risks involved with the IUD, but that I knew that not only was what happened to me rare, but that I knew it was rare that it might happen again. But she wasn’t having any of that. She kept right on talking like I wasn’t even there.

I told her that my regular doctor had already said I was fine to have one. She responded by saying that it usually took weeks to get in to see him, as if this was supposed to deter me somehow. I also tried asking if the new ACOG regulations had been implemented yet, thinking this might distract her and get me closer to my goal (also, I am in the lag area none of them know what to do with, being 29, soon to be 30) and all she would say was that my pap was past due. Is it? I don’t know. I had a normal one in late 2008. I am in a mutually monogamous relationship…

When I left I told the front desk that I would no longer allow Nurse Midwife V to treat me. I am currently in the process of filing a formal complaint against her. What shouldn’t have happened here was having everyone from the desk staff to the NCOIC (that’s Non-commissioned officer in charge) tell me how nice Nurse Midwife V is and how everyone likes her so much, and that she is well known for being very good at what she does. That might well be true, great. My experience is that she was condescending and rude, and didn’t help me with my medical needs to my satisfaction. I think that people forget that sometimes, that doctors and nurses are also here to provide a service for us. I have a medical need, and she didn’t meet it. I shouldn’t have to settle for that. No matter how nice and great she is to work with. I also shouldn’t have my experience erased and dismissed by everyone in place to help me when things go wrong for me. That is not good patient advocacy.

I am rather privileged, however, in that I was able to make another appointment, and I saw Dr. K the next day. Had I been someone who had to drive a long way to a clinic, I might not have been able to. Had I had to pay out of pocket for this visit, or if my insurance limited the amount of OB/GYN visits or birth control counselings I was allowed per year, I would not have been able to. Had the travel cost me money I did not have, this would not have been possible. Had I not had the type of job I do where I set my own hours, I might have had to miss work. These are the kinds of things that women face when they come up against providers like Nurse Midwife V, providers who don’t want to listen to women, who won’t talk to women about their own bodies and medical histories. Providers who don’t trust women to be actively involved in their medical processes. Providers who can’t be bothered to involved women in the partnership that should be their own medical care, especially when it comes to their reproductive health. As it was, having to go back a second time was already taxing on my spoons, and stressful, because now I have be on my game. Suddenly I have to come in educated on something that my provider should have known the first time.

Thanks to meloukhia’s indominatable Google-fu I took in the information I was looking for, backing up what I had already said, that an ectopic pregnancy did not preclude me from having an IUD (or, that a previous ectopic pregnancy was not a contraindication for an IUD). Dr. K was impressed that I was so prepared. He told me that he had heard that information, but he himself had been so busy that he hadn’t had time to read any of the journals for himself. He told The Guy (who went with me this time, because they like to banter back and forth in Korean) that I should come in from time to time to keep him updated on current women’s health, and said he wished more people came to him so informed. He said that whomever told me that I couldn’t have an IUD was wrong. I was prepared, but I shouldn’t have had to come in as if I was fighting a war.

Two weeks later I have my IUD.

Nurse Midwife V didn’t care to ask why, after having one IUD failure (as rare as they are, b/c they are pretty much the most effective form of reversible birth control out there, with a fail rate of less than one percent), I would want another IUD. She didn’t bother to find out anything else in my medical history that might affect my decision to make that very personal choice about birth control, like that I am on medication that might have contraindications with hormonal birth control, or that previous specialists had determined that hormonal birth control is a migraine trigger for me. She simply asserted her own opinion (as wrong as it turned out to be) and called it a day. But all of that information is in my medical record if she cared to look. The same record she said she reviewed when she made her initial judgment.

And now, I can’t trust her.

That Stuff on Your Shoe…

So this thing happened…or is happening…I am not sure.

I have this fabulous co-contributor at FWD/Forward. Our musical tastes kind of overlap in some circles. I am not the fountain of trivial knowledge I used to be, so I don’t know all the goings on in the lives of the artists that I enjoy like I used to. I know that I have “Leeds United” and “Oasis” on the External and iPods. Good tunes.

Annaham, however, wrote a really thoughtfully critical piece about a project that Amanda Palmer has been working on with her friend Jason Webley, called Evelyn, Evelyn. Supposedly they found conjoined twins living secretly and miraculously away from the media who are musically inclined and who were victims of abuse and exploitation as children. Thankfully, the lovely able-bodied folk with assets and record labels came along to coax them out of hiding and into the spot light, and despite the claims that they very much value their privacy, a blog was posted with very detailed medical information about them, and a transcontinental musical tour was planned for the musical duo, and suddenly Palmer was going to be able to sell records again while getting around that black hole that was the ass hats at Roadrunner after they pulled the “you’re too fat to unbutton your shirt” shit.

Funny story about this funny story, though. None of it is true. Oh, wait, the part about Annaham’s piece is, because, you see, Palmer and Webley made the twins up as a marketing gimmick so they could sell albums and make music. Might have been cool if Palmer hadn’t gone all out with the details and they hadn’t been making a mockery of disability.

Might also have gone OK if in a few days after Annaham’s post went up our boards didn’t explode with angry AFP fans ‘splainin’ to us about how we MEEN PWDs were just overreacting and taking all the wind out of AFP and Webley’s sails. And now noone at FWD has ever criticized disability in pop culture at our site until now and aren’t we just pissing in AFP’s breakfast cereal or something? Nope. Never done that before.

The comments became so horrendous that they had to be turned off on that post (and those are just the ones that weren’t rape threats made it past the queue). I wonder how many of those Angry AFP Fans commenters have read previous FWD/Forward content, or any since? They must really really care about PWDs.

And that might have gone over OK, since we are bloggers and all big kids who are used to this sort of thing by now, had AFP not decided to flippantly tweet “setting aside 846 emails and removing the disabled feminists from her mental periphery, @amandapalmer sat down to plan her next record“, smacking of “I’m better than you” and “I can’t be bothered to remember your silly name, girl who dared criticize me”. Cool! Just checking the rules, Amanda Palmer.

To sum up, first, it was fun and edgy and cool to make a mockery of disability in order to sell shit. Cool. Then, when you got called on your ableist shit, in a respectful way by a thoughtful person, you couldn’t be bothered to engage respectfully. Annaham (she has a name, which even in your reactionary blog post you couldn’t be bothered to use, Amanda Palmer) was a big fan of yours, fuck, I was a big fan of yours, I really really really really really like your music. Did I mention I liked your music? I still like your music. Maybe that is why this pisses me off so much…maybe Annaham still is a fan of your music, I don’t know.

See, even when you are famous, and cool and fresh and edgy you are going to fuck up. Every one does it, what matters is how you react to that fuck up. The point is that you have to own it. As quickly as you can, you say “Oops, I fucked up, how can I make this better?”. For the more PG minded: “Oops! I messed up! Woes!”

Sometimes, you engage with the people who called you on the mistake, because it helps, if you can, because often there is some misunderstanding.

Eventually, Amanda Palmer issued a blog statement…that…was a little lacking. Kind of an apology, kind of a “well, I didn’t mean to be a jerk, but what are ya going to do, and what was that annoying girl’s name again?” kind of deal. Jason Webley did too, and he actually took the time to contact some of the contributors, and his response was a lot…better:

After thinking about this a lot, I accept that aspects of this project might be seen as insensitive.  To be honest, I never really thought that this could be construed as making fun of people with disabilities.

I’ve spent the past 36 hours doing almost nothing but thinking about this.  I’ve been trying to follow everything that has been posted on the topic, and communicating with various people involved.  I am very grateful to everyone inside and outside of the project for their thoughtful feedback, and I want to especially thank Neil Gaiman for his patience and advice and Annaham for her very well articulated criticism.

Good on him. I had no idea who he was before this…but he came out of this mess as someone that I can respect…because he took the time to engage, without ‘splainin’. Without dismissing Annaham’s concerns. Without dismissing the work of PWD activists. *sniff sniff* I might even smell a moment of privilege checking there…and that is a way…forward?

Some additional reading:

“Saying conjoined twins are disabled is insulting!”: Evelyn Evelyn, Redux by lauredhel

AMANDA PALMER WANTS TO SHOCK YOU. Just Don’t Get Upset About It, ‘Kay? by Sady at Tiger Beatdown

Imbroglio a Go-Go by Annaham

On Being Fragile by Anna

If I missed anything relevant, please include it in comments.

To be clear: I have been out of Bloglandia due to technical difficulties for a stint — when I say “we” in reference to FWD/Forward, I do, of course, mean all the fab contributors who were there when this all happened. I am still playing catch up.

The Space Between…

Jennifer Hawkins, a white, blonde, thin woman, nude on the cover of Marie Claire magazine.The policing of other women’s bodies is never OK from a feminist standpoint. I can’t stress that point enough. It doesn’t serve any productive purpose in feminist discourse.

It is mostly an understood concept among people outside of the mainstream of feminism. Those who are able to work their theory around the concepts of white, straight, cis, upper-middle class, educated, able-bodied privilege.

Yet, a concept that still slips into the space between understanding is the difference between criticizing someone who comes from a place of thin privilege and tearing someone down for a body that is not like your own.

This article at Bitch, to me, was the latter.

It doesn’t seem like so long ago that I was a size 0. And yet, looking at myself now it feels so far away. That is something I am coming to grips with even today. But my mind remembers it all so well. How can nothing be something? And even at nothing I felt all my flaws. I covered in my towel so I didn’t have to glimpse myself in the mirror and be disgusted by what I saw. I still do that now! I refused to own a scale, afraid of what I would see (I still do that now!)…because it would send me into fits of fear and rage and crying…because no matter how much I threw up and refused to eat I could not weigh what all the charts said someone of my height and weight should…and my thighs jiggled and my belly bulged and my arms — while muscular from kitchen work — wiggled. Even though I was actually nothing. My clothing size was nothing.[1]

Jennifer Hawkins has thin privilege. Yes. She most certainly does. But when I was struggling I had two kinds of people to look at in magazines and on television: overly photoshopped women who were too perfect, and purposefully imperfect women meant to make me hate myself so that I would work to not be like them. There was no campaign of women of any size coming out to say “we are imperfect, but here we are“.

I will grant this: The Bitch piece does criticize the way that Jennifer Hawkins’ flaws have been the main focus of her nude cover. That is not the conversation that this cover should be invoking in feminist circles. But if she is talking about how hard this was for her, that is not something we should be criticizing. Dismissing her hesitancy, her own insecurities just because she is thin and has a different body type than someone else… that is not feminist either. When has it ever been OK for us to dismiss another woman’s experiences?

Why can’t we, as feminists, understand that?

She no longer has the protection of her Photoshop Deflector Shields, so she is in a vulnerable place, but her thin privilege doesn’t put her in the same place as all the fatties of the world who are crying in clothing stores because shirts are not made for their bodies. I get that. I think Kelsey Wallace at Bitch, for whom I just did a mostly lovely guest blogging stint w/ some of the FWD/Forward team, even gets that despite what I am garnering from her post.

Jennifer Hawkins is not the same as me. She does not know what it is like to walk into a doctor’s office and have hir assume that the pain or illness is caused by my weight before they know anything about me. She does not know the pain of the stares when I have trouble walking somewhere, as if it is definitely because I am a fattie. Or how clothes are made for people like her and not for me…or how society is made to make me feel like I am a big worthless pile of shit whose only chance at redemption is to adopt a “Lifestyle Change” for just sixty bucks a month or whatever.

But while we are throwing stones at Hawkins and scolding her for making us all feel like crap, let’s remember that she is entitled to feel like crap too. And other women who look like her, who aren’t models, who might feel like crap about themselves, they are allowed to feel that way too if they want too. Because some of them might be trying to recover or hold on or what the fuck ever. Maybe they are healthy, and have been told to Eat a Sandwich[2], as if it funny or hip, but they can’t gain weight or can’t eat that much for whatever reason.

Or, maybe we, women of any size, are allowed to love our bodies and just be fucking happy, no matter what, and these women on these covers should show us that at any size we can all be beautiful (and maybe we will see more variance soon…but I am a silly, idealistic girl[3]).

We can criticize thin privilege without policing other women’s bodies.

Just sayin’…

[1] Why are women’s sizes arbitrary numbers? Why can’t they be waist measurements? That would be more consistent?

[2] Yes. I linked to them. I want people to see how awful that thread is, and how flippantly and dismissively that is defended, even when it is pointed out to the mod to be harmful. As in, she doesn’t care that some people find it harmful.

[3] I can’t back this up. I am not.

Some blogwhoring…

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I haven’t done one of these in a while … there has been a lot going on.  Apologies if I have missed something awesome that you did, and please share it in comments.

Cara at the Curvature: Not the Man I Know:

It’s not a musing about how violent people are generally capable of hiding their violence in certain contexts. Nor is it even usually an attempt to justify one’s relationship with a violent person. It’s just a flat-out denial. Perhaps even worse, it’s a dismissal.

He’s not aggressive. He respects women. He’s very sensitive. He loves children. He gives back to the community. Once, I saw him do this thing that I consider to be the opposite of the accusation.

Chally: Limits:

You need to approach me as limited because you need someone to be less than you. It is a relief to have someone to compare yourself with and think that you’re doing better than me, at least.

The next two I found via the Sixth Carnival of Feminist Parenting, which is really great and worth checking out.

Ruth Moss: Dear Kate Harding:

You don’t mind those children who are controlled by their parents, or at least, the ones where the parents try to control them. You realise it’s difficult to control them (in the same way it’s difficult to control weight: clue; in both cases, control is the wrong approach). But at least try, come on! And as for those parents who take some kind of pride in not controlling their kids at all (and is it just me, or do I detect the tiniest hint of classism there too?) they’re the lowest of the low.

Umm, did you know Carrie Fisher has a blog? And that she is still awesome (like I had any doubt)?

You see, I was hot when most people are hot—- in my fucking 20’s & part of my 30’s……THEN, in an effort to imitate humans, I had a child &, to further maintain my life like disguise, I took medications for about 9 thousand years, &, despite all my efforts, I continued to get older & older——inadvertently, I assure you———-I tried to arrest my development physically as WELL as emotionally, but unfortunately without as much success. I also must confess that I ate food. I’m sorry….. I realize that I promised never to eat anything but lettuce & sun flower seeds, but tragically, I was unable to keep my promise.

s.e. smith: The chemical coshing of sexuality:

Make no mistake: disabled persons who want an independent sex life are routinely denied lives as sexual beings. Whether they are sterilised in institutions, forced to take medications in exchange for being allowed to live independently, or not informed about the sexual side-effects of medication, their voices are left out of the treatment decision-making, even when treatment has very real – and sometimes deadly – side-effects.

Liss:  On Carrie PreJean:

To make an issue out of these tapes, to endorse or encourage their release for any reason, is to perpetuate the rape culture. Despite our collective refusal to regard them thus, celebrity sex tapes released without the participants’ consent is sexual assault. Consenting to the sex act, even consenting to its being filmed, is not implicit consent that images of the act be publicly distributed.

From Change.org:

(That by-ling is not a mistake, that’s me!)

Unfortunately, the intersection of feminism and the military receives limited coverage in womanist/feminist circles unless the discussion centers around rape. Don’t misunderstand me: Rape is a serious issue in the Armed Forces.  In weekly posts to come, I fully intend to discuss military rape and sexual assault, the ways it is being addressed (or not) by Upper Brass, how awareness is being raised, and the effectiveness of training geared toward preventing assault. Yet if we, as feminists/womanists, feminist allies, and other women’s rights advocates, focus only on rape and sexual assault, then we are dismissing the positive experiences and achievements made by women every day.

There is a ton more that I haven’t remembered to bookmark, shamefully.  Some of the FWD/Forward team is also doing a stint at Bitch as the Transcontinental Disability Choir, so please stop by and show us your love! Drop your links in comments, and show some love to the peeps who worked on these pieces (and me!)

ETA: I am ashamed to say I forgot to bookmark and link to Quixotess’ Boycott of Feministing.  Read her post for why, because I appreciate her boosting the signal.  Can’t stop the signal, Mal. Also, see Meloukhia’s Open Letter if you need a brush up.

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